In The Air
by gilgameshforeternity
Summary: This is a Snow White and The Huntsman, The Hollow Crown Crossover. A collection of stories revolving around Eric The Huntsman and Prince Eric. Eric/Hal. Rated M. Halric
1. In The Air

(A/N) I've only seen the first and half of the second episode of The Hollow Crown and I saw Snow White and the Huntsman a few weeks ago. Really, I need more stories of Eric/Hal.

Oneshot...maybe twoshot...I don't know yet.

* * *

Eric thinks maybe this is a dream that maybe life has decided to look up for him, here in his house on the outskirts of town. Evening had been quiet, fire cracking and warm across the room from where he sits. Coins rest heavy and proud on the table from a job finished quickly and supper settles in his stomach. The huntsman thinks that maybe the rest of the night will be just as dully peaceful, at least until Hal sways into his house, grumbling words that turn into useless nonsense trailed by the mud he tracks in. There are words about his father and the thin man growls, somewhere between anger and anguish.

In the firelight his skin looks pallid and shines with colors not his own, his cheekbones cut through the shadows and his hair a dirty auburn mess drenched with who knows what. Sitting where he is the huntsman thinks the man-no longer a lord or a prince because there are no titles in his home-is a sight to be pitied. Then he brings that pity over on mile long legs and throws one over his lap like he's about to ride a horse and Eric breathes out through his nose at the thought

Air squeezes out from between them as Hal leans forward with half lidded eyes that look more feral than heron blue. He smells like a tavern, all smoke and watered down ale and the sloppy kiss Hal initiates between them tastes divine. Breathing, he should probably do that sometime soon but it's better here, feeling the man's tongue lick into his mouth hot and life giving. Gripping those slim hips he drags Hal up higher onto his lap as he sinks back into the chair. Hal is more than he looks, he's not a twig, he's lean muscle that puts subtle strength into his back and curves along his spine down to strong legs that put grace into his steps.

Breaking away Eric leaves that persuasive mouth and sucks at the man's neck, he can taste sweat, ale, dirt and underneath it all Hal. Sliding his tongue alone smooth skin he can feel the man's throat working as he pants and it turns into something darker than just tasting. He bites and closes his eyes when he hears Hal groan and arousal twists inside him, sharp as its thorns scrape along his insides. It's intoxicating, infecting and overpowering to have this man writhing against him in desperation. Biting and worrying at his lover's collarbone earns him something better than a honeyed voice, friction is what he feels as Hal presses their groins together.

Fingers dig into his hair and yank him back up into a kiss; they keep him put as Hal moves, all fluid lines against him. Between them it's too warm, too much leather and confined space for all their rubbing to be anything akin to comfortable but Eric likes it, and he likes the way Hal falls apart on top of him. Sliding his hands around he has to force them into the back of Hal's already too tight pants and the man moans and grinds harder, breath harsh against his face. Hal's skin is hot and Eric digs his nails into the meat of his lover's buttocks just to hear him keen again. Holding on he gets a better rhythm going than the shameful miscalculated thrusts they were working before. The feel of Hal's thick shaft grinding against his own is perfect, he can feel their chests meeting with each heaved breath and then there's a tongue back in his mouth muffling their voices.

He's had about all he can take with their mindless rutting and grabbing as much as he can the huntsman sits forward and sweeps them out of the chair and deposits Hal onto the table. Working his hands around he yanks off Hal's pants and boots, ignoring the man's surprised grunt. Letting them drop he takes a moment to appreciate the man, who holds such power, in the firelight. Debauched and not one for shame Hal lets his knees fall apart, the air is cool but Eric's gaze is enough to burn him from the inside out.

"Huntsman," Hal breathes.

Such a name, such a title and he hums in acknowledgment, trailing a hand down his lover's thigh as he walks forward between those inviting legs.

"Do not make me wait."

Eric smirks and maybe he shouldn't take so much pride in bedding someone made up silver spoons and coins but Hal is under his skin and digging him out would take too much effort. Leaning forward he kisses the man hard and feels nimble fingers making quick work of his pants. Groaning into their Kiss he feels those fingers work over him lightly. They've no oil so he settles for wetting his fingers inside Hal's mouth and the sight gets ingrained into his memory, like all the other times he's stuck something into that hot space.

Preparation, he should take his time, but then he thinks that this isn't just anyone and there's a reason Hal comes around his house. Which, coupled with the fact Hal looks good spread out on his table, making noises that should be outlawed he makes due with two fingers before lining himself up. Muscles flutter around the head of his cock and Hal's hands grip his arms, anchoring him and urging. There's not enough to smooth the way and he pushes in at his lover's insistence. Panting like he's run for days Hal clings to the huntsman and inhales his scent, dizzying in its familiarity that he can lose himself enough to ignore the burn and stretch.

Being filled, being taken apart by this man for hire settles in the back of his mind, like always but it doesn't feel out of place there, it feels just right. The huntsman drags out and he feels the emptiness left in his wake is enough to desire his immediate return. Mouthing at stubble and groaning when his lover does return Hal kisses him again and again. Nothing matters, nothing but this feeling of wanting to be made whole again and again. He moans and whimpers as the huntsman builds up a pace, grunting and holding his hips tightly.

It's dirty and it hurts but the pleasure far outweighs those black spots upon their meeting and he shakes, feeling how wound up his huntsman has made him. He keeps going, keeps breathing and living and clinging to his lover. Just hearing Hal, right in his ear its all there is, the fire is gone, the animals of the night silenced but for this man's angelic voice. It spurns him on to make those sounds spill unhindered from flushed lips. Closing his eyes tight he's surrounded by Hal and he can't stop moving, can't stop pushing into that tight heat and shuddering at the friction between them.

"Ah, ah," Hal can't stop the little sounds; he's too far gone to care. Clutching tighter he's so close, just a little further and then his huntsman is back to biting and gnawing his neck and he cries out, feeling everything bubble over inside him as he comes, "Ah-_Eric_."

He groans, low and approving at the sound of his name being cried to the heavens, the feel of his lover's body tensing and he makes his last thrusts deep and powerful before spilling inside Hal.

Heaving for breath he fights Hal for it as they kiss, sloppy and smeared along their lips. Letting go Eric notes just how hard he'd been holding his lord, there will be bruises later, but he doubts Hal will mind. Both groan when they part and Eric is courteous enough to hand back the man's pants with a rag to clean himself with. He doesn't say anything as he watches Hal dress, as he does up his pants but then they don't say much sometimes and just before the man leaves he catches him by the arm. Leaning in, he can still smell the tavern but then can smell himself all over the man and he kisses him hard before all but shoving the man out of his house, annoyed for ruining his quiet evening.


	2. Morning

(A/N) A lazy morning between the two

* * *

Sluggishly, like the winding breezes of summer, the prince turns over. Light spills across the floor in hazy streams and he'd rather stay in the dark warmth of his bed then greet the day. Burying his face into the pillow beneath him he feels fingers, rough and familiar travel down his back. Behind his eyelids he sees them paint across his skin, leaving liquid trails of contentment to slither down his spine. Lazy and unhurried he hums in acknowledgment of his bedmate's affections. He'll return them, in a moment or two, he promises in his mind and thankfully the man beside him does not stop.

"For one who is so merry, you are quite lazy," sleep drowns the words into murmured syllables and he smiles.

"My dear huntsman, unlike you, I do not have to catch my food come morning."

The bed dips and to his surprise he feels his lover's beard, rasping against his cheek and the feel of lips seeking out his own. Laughing, Hal permits a meeting between them and Eric hums; the fingers on his back turn to a heavy palm, hot and lingering.

He likes when this happens and whether or not he feels like a kept pet depends on how they part. Eric feels the way Hal's laugh shivers through his body, heats up his nerve endings because there's just something about the way the prince laughs that makes him feel alive. He'd bottle that laugh and keep it for himself on rainy days to cheer up the room if he could.

Kissing at the one proffered cheekbone he travels lower, seeking out the raised hills of his love's spine. They taste of starry visits and shadowy meetings. Were he some worshiper and Hal some god he would whisper flatteries, recite long winded testaments and implore this immortal being under him to grace his life with nothing more than his god's presence. Except he isn't, he doesn't grovel even for the mightiest of kings and he lavishes the pale skin beneath his lips not because textbooks would demand he show reverence, but because he gives it freely and willingly to a being so buried within himself it seems all he can do sometimes when words will not come. Pulling back the covers he sets upon the newly exposed skin with as much slow and disciplined practice as he had before until Hal calls for him and he returns to a waiting mouth.

"What acts have I done to deserve such, mmmm…. luxuriant" he purrs "ministrations?"

Eric chuckles low and amused, "Too many to count, my lord."

Oh there it is, sweet and soft in the air and Hal stares at Eric from under his lashes. Only at moments, quiet and even like these does his huntsman deign to call forth the titles that would separate them, but when he says it and he gets to watch the words form on his lover's lips, are they more endearment than mocking.

"Eric."

He earns a kiss for that and when he smiles he's reward with another. Maybe his huntsman is so carefree to give his kisses lightly but then he remembers just how menacing this tall, castle of a man can look and he relishes how here, beneath fabrics worth more than a peasant's house he looks almost harmless and acts as if drunk on love. And maybe he is. Maybe he himself is and if he is he would not want for another sober day in his life. Finally emerging from the deep valleys of his pillow, Hal slides over to his huntsman and lays himself across the man's chest. Deep within, with his ear pressed close, Hal can hear the steady thrum of the man's heartbeat, strong and powerful like its owner.

Skin to skin it feels warm even with the blankets half kicked off, but Eric would rather this than anyone else. So smooth are his lord's movements, one might think him still wrapped in sleep's embrace and wanting for company without conscious reason. He knows better, he feels slender fingers curl around his ribs, hold tight and feels nothing but desired in his lover's hold. Closing his eyes, Eric pets a hand through Hal's hair, feels it curl and spring around his fingers. For now, he is content to lie here and fall once more asleep in his lover's arms.


	3. When The Battle Is Done

(A/N) Sometime after the battle between Hal and Hotspur

* * *

Inside he feels numb and cold , almost dead and yet he thrums with life, he can hear the blood roaring in his ears as he rides to the outskirts of town. No one answers when he knocks but he is sure the man is there, he leaves his horse tied next to the huntsman's and traipses to the back of the house. Hal marches with determination, his legs carrying him into the forest to where the huntsman _must_ be, where he _has_to be. He had stopped all arguments against his departure with harsh words and ignored the looks that followed after him. There is only one place he wants to be, somewhere he knows will validate the notion that even now, body burning with pain and aching from victory, he is alive.

Eric doesn't expect the whirlwind that is another human to come stumbling out of the forest. Making such a raucous as to scare birds from their perches, he sees Hal wobbling over ferns and roots to where he sits by the pool of water gurgling beneath a waterfall. Instantly he is up, seeing the distressing amount of red smeared across the man's face and his heart clenches painfully at the sight of him limping. There is relief in the prince's eyes when he is close enough to wrap an arm around the other's shoulders and ease him to the ground.

"Hal," he doesn't mean for worry to color his tone.

"Dear huntsman, fear not for death is yet to set upon me."

If the state of his being is anything to go by, Eric doubts each word as it is spoken. Hooking an arm underneath the man's legs he carries him to the water's edge and sets about divesting him of the mail and leather.

"What has happened, why are you in such a state?"

"Victory of course! As bloodied as I am do not worry, my enemy lies dead surrounded by those who would pledge their allegiance to him."

Hal has the gall to laugh and Eric fixes him with a glare for it. Armor gone, he is at least relieved to see there are no wounds to the man's chest, but his arms bear scratches. Hal looks at him, his face is half content grin half an arrogant smirk and he reaches out to fist a hand into the huntsman's hair, dragging him into a kiss. He tastes like copper. It lasts mere seconds before he pulls away and starts stripping in earnest.

"What are you doing, winter comes and you would expose yourself to it?"

"I would cleanse my body and rid it of a battle's lingering filth."

It's cold, even with the sun high in the sky and most of the light snow melted. Truly, his lord cannot be serious, except he is and Eric bites back a laugh at the sight of his pale buttocks disappearing into the water. Hal yelps, pulls his arms in close and groans at the feel of chilled water easing the fire around his wounds.

"Huntsman, c-come, join me and perhaps the water will not be so cold."

Foolish, he is so foolish for even entertaining the idea and he ignores the smile Hal gives him as he shucks off his clothing. The water is chilly, not freezing thankfully and his body tenses as he submerges up to his shoulders. Hal floats, or rather he hops-Eric suspects he is favoring his uninjured leg-over and wraps his arms around the other's chest. Exhaling the huntsman invites him closer and already the water feels warmer. Shivers pass between them, small and intimate and Eric reaches up to place icy hands on his lover's face. So close are they now that he can see the jagged lines of a split lip, the splotchy edge of a bruise forming and with gentle strokes he wipes the grime away.

"You would make me worry by showing up like this."

Hal chuckles and presses closer, "I save thee from later anger. Had I showed up in bandages you would bemoan my aversion to seeing you sooner."

"I would not."

"You would!"

Eric opens his mouth to deny such pitiful words about his character, but they are muffled by another kiss and he sucks at the bloodied lip in retribution. Whining the prince pulls away and lifts his leg close to the surface to inspect the most annoying of his wounds; beneath the water he looks as white as porcelain. Eric can see the gash along the man's thigh and with a careful hand he grabs the injured leg and draws his lover closer. It isn't deep and he guesses it was more the tip of the weapon than the deadly length of metal behind it that would inflict such a graze.

Pressed together tightly he permits them a few more moments in the cold water before gathering the prince into his hands, earning a bemused noise from the other who wraps legs and arms around him. Gliding back to the shore with his prize, the huntsman lays his fair skinned lover across the grass and covers the man with his own body. Neither let go as they kiss and if possible Hal wraps tighter, dragging his huntsman so close as to share their body heat in a way anything but innocent.

Romantic is the last word he would use to describe their need to use spit to slick the way, or the ruddy lines of blood that twine around his thigh to drip into the grass, but Hal wouldn't dare to use it anyway. He would use words to describe certain parts and make a whole from the little pieces. Eric's mouth is hot against his skin and searing when he latches onto a peaked nipple. The huntsman's hands wander, swiping away water and blood and heating his skin in a most pleasurable way. Thick and imposing is his lover's cock as it pushes into him and he moans for more.

Here, on the ground, with the smell of the forest and his lover's arousal thick in the air Eric cannot help himself as he thrusts edge on rough. Hal is a vision, one that twists and writhes and offers encouragement in the simplest of touches and yet they are heavy with meaning. A hand gripping at the nape of his neck keeps them close so that his lover might kiss him exactly when and how he likes. The other rakes what skin it can reach with blunt nails that send shivers down his spine. This visage of sharp beauty and soft words makes his blood boil, makes reason differ to instinct and he cannot help but touch.

Reaching between them he takes Hal in hand and the man arches, head thrown back as he pants and claws for purchase. His voice pitches higher and with a breathy moan he spills across their stomachs. Leaning in Eric descends upon that extended neck and latches on, thrusting through the prince's orgasm before reaching his own and comes, buried to the hilt inside his lover.

Behind them the waterfall continues to churn, above the clouds drift by and all around the forest grows. The world moves on but for them time hangs in the air, kept afloat by their labored breathing and only when they pause to kiss does it coming falling down upon them. Eric realizes belatedly that he should have wrapped Hal's wound and Hal squirms away from the rock that had been sticking into his side all the while they had been lying there.

They dress, shivering and cursing the weather and even though Hal protests, Eric carries him back to his house, smug in his small victory. He bandages the gash, places a chaste kiss on his lover's split lip and makes soup to warm them.


	4. Alone With You

(A/N) This one ended up being more like a first time meeting between them

* * *

The tavern is warm and noisy, exactly how he likes it. There are so many people to talk to, people to talk about and most of all, people to laugh at. Drink and food travel between hands and he sits back surrounded by friends to bask in their company. The night drags on and it seems as though the entire village has come and gone. Regulars are scattered throughout the crowd and all night his eyes have been wandering to one face in particular that is not so familiar. With numerous glances he sees a scruffy beard, grey blue eyes and the man's hair is pulled back into a messy knot. Here, in the dim light of candles and lanterns he sees him more clearly than anyone else and if he is reading the man's gaze properly, those grey eyes show enough interest as to be flirted at. Sitting across the room it is easy to return such endearing looks without notice from others.

Beside him Falstaff chortles and slaps his arm to gain his attention. Surely it can't be so funny as to ruin his silent sparing with a complete stranger and yet his friend goes about retelling his story once more, as robustly as possible. After the third farfetched tale he interrupts finally.

"Permit me to ask a question before you continue. Who is that man over there, with the axe and knives?"

Those around him turn their gazes for a moment and he's surprised to see how they need only a few seconds before turning to him with an answer. Falstaff points a chubby finger to make sure they're seeing the same man before he speaks.

"That, my friend, is The Huntsman."

"A hand for hire," the bar woman offers as she passes by, no doubt eaves dropping on them as she makes her rounds.

"He lives outside of town and will do any kind of job as long as it pays well," Ned adds and with nothing more to add the conversation picks up where it left off.

Hal fingers the drink in front of him and stares, really, he should walk over. The man looks lonely, positively bored he thinks, he could use some company. Setting to it he leaves his friends and wanders over.

He drops into the seat opposite and puts on a charming smile before saying, "Hello huntsman."

What he once thought where stormy grey eyes, he sees now are churning oceans and there's something behind the man's gaze, something that whispers back at him saying such a tempest cannot be quelled by simple measures.

"You've been staring."

"I am not the only one guilty of that charge."

The man gives him a half smile and it seems like an enormous feat, like maybe he has a chance of seeing into the eye of that storm and feeling the calm that lies within. Hal leans in close, much too close for their whispering to seem innocent to others and says "Come with me upstairs, just for a moment."

Sliding a hand across the table he lets his fingers rest on the man's wrist. They hold each other's gaze as the tavern continues to bustle with customers before the huntsman downs the rest of his drink and stands to lead the way up the stairs. There's a room near the end of the walkway that's empty and they crowd into it, shoving a chair against the door to deter any intruders. Inside the sounds are muffled and Hal can clearly hear the other's breath, exhaling through his nose as if steadying himself for what is about to come.

"Do you have a name huntsman?"

"Eric. And you?"

"Hal."

Eric watches the lithe man _slink_ forward, pressing close to him and already the haze in his mind is lifting. Hal kisses him slow, curious, and maybe a bit cautiously and the huntsman can only think presume he does for he has yet to shed his weapons. Unlatching belts and untying knots, the weapons end up on the floor and Hal leads the huntsman backwards till he sits at the edge of the bed.

Oh yes, the prince does like this so far, seeing the tall man lowered, waiting and expectant, he smooth's his hands up the man's thighs, letting his touch linger and entice. Leaning in he kisses a little harder, bites and feels Eric's arousal heavy through the fabric of his trousers. Between them there is no hesitance, only charging forward and Hal is somewhat relieved in that he won't have to coax a nervous virgin through such indecent acts.

Leaning back Eric barely breathes as Hal works at the laces of his pants. He notes just how long his bedmate's fingers are, exotic almost and absently he thinks the man must be absurdly dexterous. There are few words exchanged as Hal pulls the man's pants down and hums in delight at the sight of the huntsman's erection. Thick and commanding it calls to him and he descends upon the length with an eager tongue.

Eric groans deep in his chest and to Hal it is a chorus of angels hailing his work. It's hard to keep control as he watches Hal work and feels a devilish tongue probe at the slit of his penis and then caress in a soothing manner. Except he'd hoped for a bit more and he reaches out, tugging at the man's reddish jacket till he gets the picture and comes forward to sit in his lap.

Kissing his bedmate he can taste himself, he can taste ale and the bitter tang of pre come and he relishes the feel of their tongues sliding together. Tugging at the other's breeches he shucks them down enough to take both their cocks in hand and pump. To his pleasure Hal makes a noise somewhere between a needy moan and a surprised gasp as he works them faster.

Hands twine and pull at the knot of his hair till he feels it give and fan around his shoulders, he growls low when Hal makes fists, pulling him closer because that's all either of them want at the moment, to be closer, to press and push and swim in the haze of desire. Squeezing and twisting Eric feels the way Hal loses rhythm, how his hips stutter and rut and he's there too, trying desperately to stave off the end.

What does him in is Hal and when he thinks back to this night, in a room in a tavern with tens of people downstairs, he'll remember the way Hal's thighs clench around his hips, he'll remember the rosy color of the man's kiss bruised lips and till the end of time, he'll remember the way his name sounded as Hal cried it out. He can _feel_ the cock against his pulsing and spilling and he moans low in contrast to his bedmate's higher keen and comes, fisting them through the last waves of pleasure before finally letting go.

They're a mess, shirts stained, and clothes in disarray. At the moment he could care less except Hal seems to mind and it's like the wind gets knocked out of his chest as the man proceeds to clean their come from his fingers. Hal doesn't get far because Eric pulls him in for another kiss and he all but melts against the man. Though he balks at the thought of using a rag left in the room, Hal permits the use of it to clean what they can from their clothes.

He would stay longer, but already he is thinking of his friends below and that his absence must surely have been noticed, so he kisses the huntsman again and once more for good measure before imploring him to come back to the tavern so they might meet again. Then he's gone out the door and Eric watches him leave, he had already planned on returning to the tavern anyway.


	5. We'll Whisper Under The Leaves

(A/N) This is fluffy fluff.

* * *

Concrete gives way to desperate vines; spider silk thin cracks spiral out and make way for these searching, hungry plants. With its back pressed against the cliff face the forest has wandered down to blanket this forgotten building, wrapping it in a grasp so gentle as to remind it life goes on. Sunlight spills in through the windows and dapples the covering moss in tendrils of misty gold. Flowers bloom along lazy vines that drip over the edge of an open balcony and sway to the soft lullaby of the breeze. All around the lush colors range from deep, molted green to light, comforting ivory and invite only those who would keep the peace to walk amidst this isolated sanctuary.

It has been so many years, so many lonely days and only a few still know of the building's existence and only one who would come to keep it company. Together, hand in hand a huntsman and a prince come upon this place not by accident, but because the huntsman would have his lover look upon a sight so beautiful and hope it pleases him. Carefully they walk to one of the entrances overflowing with vegetation and enter, it's as though they have not left the forest but merely entered a smaller one. The air smells of sweet jasmine and airy moss, it smells of lingering dew and dirt beneath their feet.

Up, up they climb stairs and move with such reverence barely a leaf is out of place. Gently, the huntsman pulls back a curtain of those sleepy vines and outside the wind caresses their faces and tickles the leaves. Again they climb, to the very top where vines and moss and bushes crowd together in a chorus of colors. The huntsman invites his lover to lie down with him and side by side they are cushioned by nature's downy blanket. Here, the huntsman whispers of this place, he has watched it grow for many years, seen the flowers open and close and never known another person to come upon it.

The prince listens and he marvels at their surroundings. Such a place of beauty nestled away from the eyes of his soon to be kingdom and he asks, so hesitantly as to almost be shy, if he might learn the path to this place by heart. He hopes to come here himself and bask in Mother Nature's gift. The huntsman agrees and places a fond kiss to his cheek, murmuring so softly, lest he disturb the vines from their slumber, that he would take the prince there as often as he liked. He says, with an almost binding finality that warms the prince's heart that he brought him here to show him a place so wondrous that he could think of no other person he would want to show it to.

Without meaning to the prince slips into a light sleep and he dreams of the forest, of glittering dew and secret places to share with his huntsman.


End file.
